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by Coalmine301



Series: Comfortember 2020 [17]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Couch Cuddles, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Post-Zigoola (Star Wars), Protective Anakin Skywalker, Self-Esteem Issues, no beta we die like assholes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:53:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27812587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coalmine301/pseuds/Coalmine301
Summary: “How bad is it?” Ahsoka finally asked.There was a brief pause, and then Che sighed. “I don’t know,” the twi’lek admitted. “I’ve never seen anything this bad…”
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Bail Organa, Padmé Amidala & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: Comfortember 2020 [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1996339
Kudos: 134
Collections: Comfortember 2020





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**Author's Note:**

> Written for the last Comfrotember Prompt "Recovery"

Obi-wan came to screaming. 

He could still hear the voice in his mind, whispering deep within his ear. That accursed mantra of ‘die jedi, die Jedi, die Jedi, die Jedi, die-’

A hand landed on his shoulder and he instantly jolted. His pulse hammered in his throat as he whipped around.

Bail Organa watched him, concern evident in dark eyes.

“You were having a nightmare,” the senator explained, hands held up in a pacifying gesture. “I was going to wake you…” kind of redundant since the jedi ended up waking himself. 

Obi-wan’s gut twisted as he took in the other’s thinned face and dark bags under his eyes. He absolutely looks awful, bearing clear signs of Ziggola’s torment. 

Obi-wan had been trusted with this man’s protection. And he had failed.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Confusion passes over the senator’s face. “Whatever for?”

Obi-wan only shook his head. “I’m sorry.” He repeated. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t sure who he was saying it to. The victim beside him or the victims in his visions. Unbidden images flashed across his mind. Bodies lay strewn across the ground, blood irrigating a battlefield. Or a theed generator. 

Ziggola had shown him death. It had shown him Siri, Qui-gon, Tahl; their bodies broken and conteroted in death. 

And when that didn’t hurt enough it showed him deaths yet to occur. Anakin falling beneath a storm of blaster bolts not even he could deflect. Ahsoka positioning herself in front of a cluster of scared younglings, knowing she wouldn’t make it out of this fight alive. Clones seeing their brothers fall on either side as they continued to run ahead to certain death.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-wan sobbed. A tear ran down his cheek but he made no move to wipe it away. Nor the next three that came after it.

He had failed them. He had failed them all.

Tanned hands gripped his shoulders. Obi-wan could not feel them. A concerned voice whispered something into his ear. Obi-wan could not hear it. 

He almost thought his eyes were deceiving him.

Why would the senator waste his time trying to comfort him? A failure who couldn’t even do his job of keeping people alive? 

Strong arms wrapped around his starved form. It felt nice, even he had to admit it. Yet if Obi-wan possessed the strength he would have tried to push the older man away. He didn’t deserve this.

So caught up in his thoughts, Obi-wan didn’t see Padme approach from behind until it was far too late.

There was a slight prick of a needle on the back of a neck. For a second he tensed, startled by the sudden sensation. But then his eyes rolled back into his head and he surrendered to unconsciousness. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Even in sleep he seemed on edge. His mask had fallen away, revealing the cracks underneath. Some had formed over the course of this hellish mission. But most were much, much older.

Before she could stop herself, Padme ran slender fingers through auburn strands. If nothing else to try and provide her friend some comfort.

Over his unconscious form the senators exchanged a concerned glance. Obi-wan had always put up such a brave front, always shrugging his own pain off in favor of tending to others. It was almost easy to forget he was suffering too.

* * *

“The Hero with no Fear” the press called him. A noble, shining Knight fearlessly rushing into the thick of battle, lightsaber aloft, as he leads thousands of armored men to victory. 

For what did a Jedi truly have to fear? Death? Skywalker laughs in the face of death. 

Only… Anakin Skywalker does indeed fear death. 

If not his death, then those of his loved ones. He remembers holding his mother in shaking arms, her blood spilling out onto the sand. Seeing the light in her eyes fade away before vanishing entirely. It broke him. 

He don’t think he can handle another one like that.

“Do you think he’s alright?” The blonde asked for perhaps the twelfth time that hour. 

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “You say that like he’s dying,” she teased. 

“He could be,” Anakin protested. “He does have a bad habit of pretending everything’s fine, hiding his injuries and stuff.”

The togruta rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you’re over exaggerating, Master. Master Obi-wan’s probably just fine. He probably isn’t even awake ye-”

That’s when the screams started.

Now, Anakin had heard Obi-wan in pain before. The sharp, harsh breaths as he tried to fight back his pain. The groans and whimpers as he lay suffering through poison or fever. The sharp yelp or occasional scream when bones snap or something pulls. 

But not like this. Nothing like this.

Screams of pure, unadulterated pain and terror echo down the Halls of Healing. A sound so scared and vulnerable Anakin didn’t think Obi-wan could even feel such an emotion, yet alone vocalize it.

Yet he is. Something terrible has happened, perhaps is still happening, to him.

In an instant the duo are running, sprinting to the source of the horrible noise. 

A locked door looms between them and their brother trapped on the other side. Anakin slams a metal fist on the barrier, lips drawn back in an animalistic snarl. 

“Open this door!” He demands. No one responds. The screams continue. They are almost deafening, the Force flooded with the redhead’s panic. 

And then, all of a sudden, the screams suddenly end. Not fade out, oh no, but abruptly cut off. Almost as if… as if…

For a moment Anakin forgets to breathe. 

Ahsoka recovers first. She paces the hallway like a caged tooka. “There has to be some way to get this damned door open.”

Anakin opened his mouth to reply-

“That won’t be necessary.”

Both whirled around to see the familiar sight of Vokara Che gliding down the hallway toward them. “He’s been sedated,” she explained. “Zigoola was… hard on him.”

Anakin took a few steps forward, looming over the healer. “How is he?”

The twi’lek calmly stared back, by now unfazed by Skywalker’s “intimidation” tactics. “We’re not sure,” she admitted. “Master Kenobi returned with signs of severe starvation and malnutrition. He’s also covered in several wounds, the most severe being a ‘saber wound in his thigh.”

At that she watched both Master and Padawan wince in sympathy. Being stabbed always hurt, but even more so with a burning hot lightsaber.

Che didn’t mention anything about his mental state. Though even a brief brush against the bearded man’s Force presence revealed just how messed up and jumbled it all was. Spiked with anxiety and fear as opposed to its normally serene front. Formerly impenetrable shields were now almost as thin as spider-silk.

“How long would he stay here?” Ahsoka asked.

“A month, at least. Even longer including the physical therapy on his leg,” Che replied honestly. “Even after he’s released I don’t want him to be alone long. Not with how fragile his mind is now. Ideally we’d board him with other Je-”

“We’ll take him,” Anakin replied before she was even finished. Ahsoka nodded in firm agreement.

At that Che gave a quiet nod. “I suppose that could be arranged. Just try not to rile him up too much. Kenobi needs to focus on healing if he’s ever going to recover.”

‘If’. Now ‘when’, ‘if’. Anakin felt his throat tighten and swallowed dryly. 

For a moment silence fell between them.

“How bad is it?” Ahsoka finally asked.

There was a brief pause, and then Che sighed. “I don’t know,” the twi’lek admitted. “I’ve never seen anything this bad…”

* * *

Obi-wan wasn’t entirely sure how long he spent locked up in the Halls of Healing. Perhaps a week, a month, a year. Or perhaps just a few hours. Time was fuzzy here.

He should have felt the urge to escape. Should have eyed up the room -everything from the air duct, to the window, to the space under the bed- to formulate his plan. 

And yet, he just… didn’t. For perhaps the first time he actually felt at peace within the Halls’ marble walls. It felt safe, clean, and very much unlike the Zigoola hellscape he had just barely escaped.

Of course this seemed to put the healers on edge. He could see them watching him when they thought they were out of sight, keeping an eye out for any of his infamous shenanigans. 

Funny, he would have thought they’d celebrate a day free of shenanigans.

He was almost surprised when Master Che came by and said he was released. She offered a pair of crutches and Obi-wan uncharacteristically took them without protest. Normally he probably would have insisted they were unnecessary, but right now he lacked the energy for any kind of argument. 

So that was how he found himself limping to the quarters he had once shared with Anakin. Of course he had been given his own quarters as a Master and Ahsoka had moved in in his stead. 

The rooms weren’t too large, certainly not large enough to comfortably hold three people. And Obi-wan couldn’t help but feel like he was intruding.

But when the door slid open there stood Anakin with an almost cheery grin on his face. A warm hand on his shoulder, the blonde guided him over to the couch. Ahsoka appeared at his side in an instant, a steaming cup of tea passed over.

He sniffed at it, recognizing the aroma. “Is this sapir?”

“Of course,” the togruta replied. “Skyguy told me 

At that the redhead smiled, letting himself savor the drink.

The rest of the night was a bit of a blur after that. Obi-wan wasn’t entirely sure how, but he found himself nestled between Anakin and Ahsoka, a bowl of popcorn in his lap. The latest cheesy holodrama played over the set.

“I’m telling you, Ahsoka, you can’t crush over every actress you see.”

“Then why make them all so hot, then?”

They laughed to each other and Obi-wan chuckled along with them.

Already his eyelids were beginning to feel heavy. Obi-wan tried to fight it off, but found he was rapidly losing the battle. Besides, he felt so warm and safe snuggled between his siblings, beings he trusted above all else.

Srley it wouldn’t hurt if he closed his eyes for a few minutes...


End file.
